Unleashed Fury (third in series)
by Red O'Toole
Summary: Drawn back to Devil's Hole to help his gang, Hannibal Heyes agrees to help rob an Army payroll train, but he has a plan. When the plan goes awry and Kid Curry's life is on the line, Heyes will do whatever it takes to rescue him - - even kill.


47

Unleashed Fury

Chapter One

Three shots echoed off the cliffs that guarded the entrance to Devil's Hole and the two riders rode on. It had been some time since Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry had ridden into their old hideout and the hope had been they'd never have to again, yet here they were.

Every rock, every twisted tree, every turn in the trail was as familiar to them as their own faces. They knew the spots where lookouts kept wary eyes on them as they wound their way into the depths of the outlaw hideout that had never been breached by the law.

They were silent as they rode; each lost in his own thoughts and memories of the past.

The lookouts had passed word of the arrivals and the members of the Devil's Hole gang had come out to meet them. They rode through a gauntlet of unsmiling men, though some greeted them quietly, while others gave sketchy salutes.

Heyes and Curry rode straight to the leader's cabin where they were met by three men they had never seen before. The one in front looked to be about fifty years old yet stood erect with the bearing of a military man. His face was stern as he watched them approach. The other two, slightly behind the first, were younger but with some of the same military look about them.

Heyes and Curry reined in, the Kid slightly behind, and the dark-haired former outlaw leaned forward, his arms crossed over his saddlehorn. "I hear you been lookin' for us," he said. "I'm Hannibal Heyes and this is my partner, Kid Curry. Who are you and what do you want us for?"

"I am Captain Elliot Glover, formerly of the Ninth Cavalry Division, now leader of the Devil's Hole Gang, and I have a lucrative proposition that may interest you."

"Maybe you haven't heard, Captain Glover, but we aren't in the business anymore."

"Yes, I have heard that, but I believe what I can offer you may just change your mind," the officer replied confidently.

"There's nothing you can offer us that's worth twenty years in prison!" Curry retorted forcefully.

"Why don't you get down and listen to my proposal before you decide?"

Heyes and Curry exchanged a long look that spoke volumes. "It can't hurt to listen, Kid," Heyes said. "It'll have been a long ride for nothing otherwise."

"I told you from the start, Heyes, it was gonna be a long ride for nothin'," Curry snapped.

"Let's just hear 'im out, Kid, " the other coaxed.

Curry sighed heavily. "All right, Heyes, we'll hear 'im out, then I'm outta here!"

The two dismounted in unison and a familiar figure stepped forward to take the reins of their horses, a big grin showing off his tobacco-stained teeth. "Howdy, Heyes, Kid!" he greeted.

"Good to see you, Kyle," Heyes replied.

"Kyle," Curry nodded.

"If you gentlemen will step this way," Captain Glover invited, gesturing towards the cabin that Heyes had once claimed as his own.

They stepped forward and Glover's other men fell in behind them causing prickles of apprehension to run up their spines.

"Won't you have a seat?"

Heyes sat in one of the chairs around the familiar battered table, his apparent ease belied by the wariness in his eyes. Curry hesitated, disinclined to put himself at a disadvantage, but then sat when his partner nodded, saying, "I'm sure we can trust Captain Glover, Kid; he wouldn't have invited us to Devil's Hole if he was after our bounties."

"Honor among thieves, Mr. Heyes?" Glover looked slightly amused.

"Something like that, captain, but Kid and I aren't thieves anymore, as I told you."

"So you did, but as I said, I believe I can change your mind. Would you care for a drink?"

"Yes, thank you."

At a nod from the captain one of the others fetched a bottle of whiskey and three glasses from a shelf, pouring generous portions before returning to his position by the door.

They each took a swallow, Heyes closing his eyes in pleasure as the fiery liquid cut through the trail dust.

"I have to admit, captain, it's surprising to see soldiers here at Devil's Hole; gives rise to suspicions you understand." The former outlaw leader allowed his face to show his doubts.

"Let us say that the Army and I stopped seeing eye to eye and thus came to a parting of the ways," Captain Glover explained.

"Still seems a big step from soldier to outlaw."

"Not so big as you think. After giving so much of my life to the Army and then to be let go with _nothing_ to show for it - well, that is what we are here to remedy. Which brings us to why I asked you here; I have need of your particular skills, Mr. Heyes. Now, before you tell me again that you don't steal anymore," he said, putting up a hand, as Heyes opened his mouth to speak. "Let me ask you if fifty-thousand dollars _each_ isn't enough to tempt you into one more job, after which you'll have more than enough to retire comfortably anywhere you choose."

Both Heyes' and Curry's eyes had widened at the amount of money.

"What do you plan to hit? Fort Knox?" Heyes exclaimed.

Captain Glover chuckled. "I see I have caught your interest, but it is nothing so hard as Fort Knox. There is an unusually large Army payroll - five hundred thousand dollars to be exact - being sent to Fort Laramie by train and _that_ is our objective. I'll give you further details _if_ you agree to join me.

Heyes narrowed his eyes as he thought it over. "You're willing to give Kid and me one-fifth of the take - why?"

"The money will be kept in a Pierce and Hamilton '78 and you are the only one ever known to have opened one."

"That much money is bound to be more tightly guarded than a regular payroll."

"That's the beauty of it, Mr. Heyes, security will be no more than usual in order to not arouse suspicions."

"Hmmm," said Heyes, tapping his pursed lips thoughtfully.

"Heyes!" Curry exclaimed, turning to his partner. "You're not seriously considering this scheme, are you? We never once hit a military payroll train and there was a good reason for it! Do you remember what it was?"

"Of course I do, Kid."

"It was," Curry continued as if Heyes hadn't spoken. "Because then we'd have the whole US Army after us! You knew it wasn't worth the risk, no matter the amount of money."

"But _fifty-thousand dollars_, Kid!"

"Can you spend it in prison? Is that the price you're gonna put on our amnesty?" Curry exclaimed incredulously.

"With that kind of money we could disappear!"

"I don't _want_ to disappear, Heyes! I want to live in the open, a free man!" Curry stood angrily. "If you're gonna do this, you'll do it without me!"

"I'm going to do it, Kid," Heyes stated stubbornly.

"Then I'm outta here! I wish you luck, Heyes."

"Same to you, Kid."

The two locked eyes for a long moment before Curry turned away. As he moved towards the door, the two guards stepped in front to block it.

"You plan to try to stop me leavin'?" the gunslinger asked softly, his blue eyes turning to ice.

"Let 'im go, captain," Heyes suggested scornfully. "We don't need him - this isn't a job for a fast gun! What do you think he's gonna do - go tell the law about your plan?"

"I suppose you're right. Let him go, boys."

His path cleared, Curry tossed a scornful look over his shoulder at his ex-partner before shutting the door on the last family he had in the world.

Two Weeks Earlier

Trail-worn, dusty, and sporting several days growth of beard, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry approached the city limits of Yuma, Arizona, with nothing on their minds but a hot bath and shave, a soft bed, and a cold drink, not necessarily in that order. It had been an uneventful trip from Silver City, and though they appreciated that, they looked forward to a little excitement in Yuma's saloons.

The main street was bustling with afternoon activity and Heyes sighed heavily at the sight of humanity.

Curry glanced sidelong at his partner, amusement glinting in his bright blue eyes. "You're gettin' old, Heyes," he commented, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

"Old? Who's gettin' old?" Heyes exclaimed in offense, his dark eyes flashing.

"Used to be you could run from a posse for days without complainin'," Curry teased.

"We were runnin' on pure adrenalin in those days, Kid. Besides, the only thing complainin' would've got us was caught and locked up for twenty years!"

"Okay, so you ain't gettin' old, you're gettin' _soft_!"

"And _you_ don't like a hot bath and soft bed?" the other retorted.

"'Course I do, not to mention a thick juicy steak and a decent cup of coffee!"

"You and your stomach!"

Fortunately their bickering was cut off by Heyes catching sight of the telegraph office. "Let's check if there's any messages from the girls and let 'em know we're here before we settle in, okay?"

"Sure, why not?" Curry shrugged.

They dismounted and hitched their horses to the rail, stretched the stiffness out of their backs, and entered the small wireless office where a small, elderly man, bald except for a ring of snow white hair under his visor, looked up and said, "Can I help you, fellas?"

"Hopefully. Do you have any telegraphs for a Joshua Smith or a Thaddeus Jones?" Heyes replied.

"Sure do! Came in a couple of days ago. Was beginnin' to wonder if anyone was gonna come in and claim it." The old man handed a folded paper to Heyes.

Heyes opened it and read it quietly, his brows drawing into a frown.

"What is it, Joshua?" Curry asked in concern, being well versed in his partner's expressions.

"I don't know, Thaddeus, but it doesn't sound good." He handed the telegraph to the other.

Curry read:

To: J. Smith or T. Jones

From: Lom Trevors, sheriff

Porterville, Wyoming

Urgent you come Porterville. Big trouble. Don't delay.

"I wonder what's up," he frowned, handing the message back to his friend, who tucked it into his vest pocket.

"Won't know 'til we get there. What time's the next train north?" he asked the telegraph operator.

"Four o'clock," was the reply.

"Hmm, three-thirty now. We've got just enough time. First I need to send a couple of telegraphs."

Five minutes later, after sending a telegraph to Lom to expect them and another to Bridget and Mary informing them of their plans, they were remounting their horses and heading for the livery stable, which was conveniently located near the train station so, after selling their horses, they didn't have far to lug their gear.

The train lurched to a start just as they got their gear and themselves settled in a half-empty car. The both stared longingly at the disappearing town out the window.

"So much for a hot bath and soft bed," Heyes sighed.

"Not to mention the thick juicy steak," Curry sighed in his turn.

"I was looking forward to seeing Jenny and Louise again."

"Me, too. What do you think this big trouble is, Heyes?"

"I don't know, Kid, but I've got a _very_ bad feeling about it." Heyes continued to look out the window at the passing landscape, though not seeing it, as his fertile imagination went to work on all the possible trouble that could await them in Porterville.

Lom was waiting on the platform for them as they stepped off the train, saddles and saddlebags slung over their shoulders. "Good to see you boys," he greeted.

"Howdy, Lom! How'd you know we'd be on this train?" Heyes replied.

"I didn't; I've been meeting every train that's come in. You two look like hell!" The lawman looked them up and down critically.

"We were on the trail a week when we got to Yuma and got your telegraph, Lom; it sounded so serious we didn't stop for a bath, meal, or drink! It had _better_ be serious!"

"Oh, it's serious all right, but I think it'll go down better if you're cleaned up. Why don't you go get a room and a bath at the hotel then meet me at the café - I'll buy you boys a steak dinner."

The two ex-outlaws exchanged telling glances. "Now I'm _really _worried, Lom, sounds like you're softening us up for something we ain't gonna like."

"Go freshen up; we'll talk after," Lom insisted.

Giving in, they took their old friend's suggestion. An hour later, feeling much better having bathed, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes, they entered the café where Lom already sat at a table nursing a cup of coffee. As they sat down, a waitress hurried over to pour them coffee and take their orders.

"Tess, bring three of your best steak dinners, please," Lom ordered for them all.

"Comin' right up, Lom," she agreed brightly.

"All right, Lom, out with it," Heyes demanded. "What's this big trouble?"

"Has it got anything to do with our amnesty?" Curry wanted to know.

"It has _everything_ to do with your amnesty and, if something isn't done, you'll get no amnesty!" The big sheriff had never looked so grim.

"What else is new?" Heyes sighed. "What is it _this_ time?"

"Well, 'bout two weeks ago Kyle came to see me," Lom began.

"_Kyle Murtree?_" the two outlaws exclaimed.

"The very one and you could say he was a mite nervous."

"Yeah, I'd think so!" Heyes grinned at his partner, eyes alight, his worries momentarily forgotten at the thought of the nervous, tobacco-chewing outlaw digging up the nerve to walk into a sheriff's office. "What'd he want?"

"He knew I kept up with your whereabouts so he was sent with a message from the new leader of the Devil's Hole gang - he wants to meet with you two, but if you can't get there by the twenty-fourth to forget it."

"So what's the big deal, Lom? If we don't go the governor can't accuse us of still bein' part of the Devil's Hole gang," Heyes shrugged dismissively.

"There's more," the sheriff warned.

"Of course there is," Curry groaned. "When can it be simple for us?"

Lom looked at the blond gunman in sympathy before going on. "That was the message he was sent to give, but Kyle had a lot more to say. He said he and the boys need your help. He said the new leader, someone he called Captain Glover, was crazy and was gonna get them all killed-said he'd already killed Lobo!"

_"What?"_ Faces pale with shock, Heyes and Curry stared at Lom.

"Why? Lobo wasn't one for startin' trouble!" the ex-leader exclaimed.

"Kyle didn't say, actually teared up when he mentioned it, so I didn't press him. He said this Captain Glover was leading them against an Army payroll train and 'they was all gonna be killed less'n y'all come set 'im straight!' Kyle's words," Lom added, imitating the squeaky voice of the outlaw.

"What does he expect _us_ to do that eight or so of them can't?"

"I don't know, Heyes, but I do know that if the Devil's Hole gang knocks off an Army payroll train you two can kiss your amnesties goodbye and say hello to hard labor in an Army prison that'll make Wyoming's state penitentiary seem like a luxury hotel!"

"Great! That's just great!" Curry growled in frustration, his blue eyes flashing. "With the whole US Army after us there ain't no place we can go to 'cept Mexico. Think Armendariz can use a couple of hands, Heyes?"

"Lom, the governor _knows _we aren't part of the gang anymore," Heyes protested.

"True, but he can't come out publicly and defend you boys, it'd be political suicide!"

"After everything we've done for him, you'd think he could do one little thing for us!" Heyes' voice was tinged with bitterness.

"When's the next train south, Lom?" Curry asked in resignation.

"Now, boys, you just gonna let your friends down like this?" Lom stared at them in surprise.

"Lom, we're havin' enough trouble tryin' t'save ourselves and you can see for yourself how well _that's_ goin'!" Curry replied sarcastically.

"You're the genius, Heyes," the sheriff appealed to the ex-outlaw leader. "Can't you come up with something?"

"Gee, Lom, I didn't know you cared so much!" Heyes' lips quirked up in a lopsided grin.

"I'd hate to see so much hard work go to waste!"

Tess came just then with their meals and the smell of the food lifted Curry's spirits. "Heyes'll come up with something!" he stated optimistically, digging into the food.

With a dramatic sigh, Heyes replied, "I'll put my mind to it."

Satisfied that the problem would now be resolved, Lom and Curry ate heartily, with Heyes following suit after first shaking his head in bemusement.

Lom and Curry chatted amiably as they ate, the gunslinger filling the lawman in on the progress being made on their ranch and their run in with the Silver Kid, which roused the interest of the sheriff.

"I'd read about those gunfights. So the Silver Kid was a woman, eh? What's this world comin' to?" He shook his head in wonder.

All the chatter passed over Heyes' head as he ate mechanically, barely tasting the food, his mind churning over the problem. By the time Tess served them hot cherry pie and fresh cups of coffee, a rudimentary plan had formed. "This pie is delicious," he said around a mouthful.

"He's got a plan," Curry said to Lom.

"How can you tell? All he said was the pie is delicious." The lawman was confused.

"_That's_ why; he wouldn't have known he was eating it if he was still thinkin'."

"If you two are finished talking about me, maybe you'd like to hear my plan," Heyes put in impatiently.

"Of course we want to hear it, Heyes," Curry said placatingly, patting his friend's shoulder.

"Maybe we outta talk in my office where it's more private," Lom suggested.

"Good idea, Lom, let's go!" Heyes forked the last bite of pie into his mouth, gulped a last swallow of coffee, and stood, placing his hat firmly on his head. "Well? What are you two waiting for?"

Rolling his eyes, Curry followed suit. Lom settled up with Tess and the three walked briskly across the street to the sheriff's office, dodging midday traffic.

"So what's your plan, Heyes?" Curry prodded after they settled into the chairs in front of Lom's desk.

"It's only the bare bones of one so far, and it's going to be dangerous," Heyes warned.

"Quit stallin' an' just tell us!"

"We'll go meet with this Captain Glover and chances are he'll want us to join up with him and one of us will. I'll lay odds they need help crackin' the safe, so I'll be the one to stay and work from the inside. Kid, you'll get angry that I want to blow our amnesty deal to do another job and refuse to join, that way you'll be on the outside."

"And just why do I want to be on the outside when I should be there backin' you up?" The gunslinger bristled indignantly.

"Because after we rob the train you're going to rob _us_ and get the money back to Lom who's going to have a troop of soldiers here to pick it up."

"Oh, just me? I may be fast, but my gun only holds six shots, Heyes!"

"That's one of the details I still have to work out, don't worry about it. Lom, can you find out anything about this Captain Glover?"

Lom frowned. "I can wire Colonel Stone at Fort Laramie and see if he knows anything about him."

"Good, the more we know about our enemy the better prepared we can be. Will you let me know as soon as you get an answer?"

"First thing," Lom assured him and left to get the message sent.

"I need a drink, Kid," Heyes said and stood up abruptly.

"I need two to swallow this weak plan of yours, Heyes," groused Curry.

"Relax, Kid, when do my plans _not_ work out?" his partner replied lightly with a grin.

"Ya want me to list 'em all?"

"Y'gotta have a little faith, Kid."

"I've got faith, Heyes, what I need are a few more details."

"I'm workin' on it, Kid."

They had just been dealt their second hand in a poker game when Lom pushed open the saloon's swinging doors. He spotted them immediately and stalked to the table. "Smith. Jones. My office. Now!" he growled, jerking his head in the direction of the doors. Not waiting to see if his order was followed he spun around and left the way he had come.

All the poker players had looked up at the imposing figure of the sheriff and then stared after him, mouths agape

.

"What'd you fellas do t'rile the sheriff?" one of the players, a lanky local cowboy asked.

"Don't rightly know," Curry replied. "But it'd be best not to keep 'im waitin', ain't that right, Joshua?"

"You got that right, Thaddeus. Sorry, boys, deal us out; with any luck we'll be back later."

They threw in their cards and gathered up their money before leaving to a chorus of "good lucks!"

Lom was pacing the floor of his office, which was empty, he having sent his deputy to do rounds.

"Did you get an answer, Lom?" Heyes asked eagerly.

"Yeah, I got an answer an' it ain't good!" Lom perched on the edge of his desk and pulled out the folded telegraph. He opened it and read, "Captain Elliot Glover, Ninth Cavalry Division, given dishonorable discharge for commanding massacre of Indian village. Claimed provocation. No survivors to deny. Four of his men deserted to follow him. Considered dangerous. Avoid if possible."

"Great! A maniac's taken over the Devil's Hole gang!" Curry exclaimed.

"Explains why he's hittin' an Army payroll," Heyes mused.

"How's that?" Lom asked.

"Pay back, Lom; he feels he's owed." The dark ex-outlaw began his own pacing. "I wonder how he got into Devil's Hole in the first place? I can guess how he managed to take over, even outnumbered by the gang."

"I don't think I like the idea of you boys going in there anymore," their sheriff friend said in a worried voice. "Let me send another telegraph and the Army will take care of it; it's their mess after all."

"And let them take care of our friends, too? No, Lom, this only gives us _more_ reason to go!" Heyes stated firmly, his face set in lines of resolve.

"Maybe we should listen to Lom, Heyes," Curry put in. "There's only two of us."

"You're forgettin' the gang, Kid, they'll back us."

"You sure?"

"Didn't Kyle overcome his fear of sheriffs to come ask for help?"

"Guess you got a point, Heyes."

"Then it's settled. We'll leave day after tomorrow, that should get us there by the twentieth, well within the deadline. Come on, Kid, we've got a lot of preparations to make."

Heyes watched the door close behind his partner, his best friend, the closest thing to family he had left, and felt suddenly cold, goosebumps prickling his arms. Shaking it off, he turned his attention back to his opponent. "So you want me to open a Pierce and Hamilton '78, on a train no less. There are three problems with that, Captain Glover: time, equipment, and time."

"Explain," the officer ordered.

Heyes leaned forward. "There's only one way to open that safe and to do it I need special equipment - the most problematic being a Bryant pump. Now I left mine here when I left and if it's still here then that problem is solved, but if it's not, is there time to locate another one?"

"Any equipment we found here was put in the shed out back; your pump may be there."

"Let's say it is. The rest of the things I need are readily available, but there is still the other issue of time. I need time, a very specific amount, in order to get the job done. Me an' the boys've robbed plenty of trains an' there just ain't enough time between stopping it and the posse arriving to blow a Pierce and Hamilton!"

"I see. Why don't I brief you on my plan and maybe that will allay some of your concerns." Captain Glover snapped his fingers and one of his men brought a map, which the officer spread on the table. "Here is Cheyenne and here is Fort Laramie with some rough terrain in between. We will stop the train here," he pointed to a spot midway between the capital and the fort. "Any posse leaving either place will need a minimum of three hours, riding full speed all the way, to come to the rescue, which actually gives us more than that because over that terrain they can't ride full speed all the way. Is three hours sufficient time for you to open the safe, Mr. Heyes?"

"That should just about do it. I'm going to need some nitro and transporting that stuff on horseback over that rough terrain you were just talkin' about is not a safe proposition."

"A complication, but not insurmountable. I will have some put on the train in Cheyenne."

Heyes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How are you going to do that?"

"Every man has his price, Mr. Heyes, even loyal US Army soldiers."

"You have an inside man," Heyes nodded, understanding. "It seems you've thought of everything."

"As a leader should, Mr. Heyes, as you know very well. Having been the leader, Mr. Heyes, can you follow?"

"I'll do my job, captain, but I'm not a soldier, the men aren't either and won't take to being ordered around as if they were."

"Are you telling me how to run this gang of outlaws, Mr. Heyes?" Glover drew himself up in affront, glaring daggers at the ex-outlaw leader.

"No, you're in charge, but I know these men. They know the business of robbing trains and they'll do their jobs, but they _are_ outlaws, _not_ soldiers. You can take my suggestion, or leave it, your choice," Heyes shrugged.

While Glover continued frowning, one of the guards stepped away from the door, drawing his gun. "Let me shoot 'im, sir," he snarled.

"Go ahead, you'll never get that safe open without me," Heyes stared calmly into the muzzle of the gun.

"That will do, Wilkes, Mr. Heyes has a point." Glover relaxed his stance.

Wilkes kept the gun pointed at Heyes a beat longer before insolently uncocking it and putting it away. Heyes' answering smile was more a sneer of contempt.

"I have another proposition for you, Mr. Heyes, that may make this operation proceed more smoothly and thus avoid another unpleasant example having to be made of another deserter."

Although Glover hadn't said what that example had been, Heyes' gut told him he was talking about Lobo's murder and his anger began to burn. Ruthlessly, he tamped it down, knowing he needed a cool head in order for his plan to succeed. Smoothing his best poker face across his features, he looked mildly at the ex-officer and asked, "What proposition would that be?"

"You will be my lieutenant, relaying my orders to them in a fashion that will be acceptable to them."

Smothering a triumphant grin at how well this would further his plan, Heyes merely said, "I could do that, but don't you think you ought to learn how to deal with them if you're going to be the leader of the Devil's Hole gang?"

"Oh, after this job is done my men and I will be gone; we're doing this one job and then we'll have no further need of your band of outlaws!"

His choice of words and tone of voice sent a chill down Heyes' spine. "You've got a deal," he said.

"Excellent, Mr. Heyes, I think we shall work well together. Why don't you go now and get settled in and we will go over the details of our operation later."

"I'll look forward to it, captain."

Most of the outlaws had dispersed to their various activities, but Heyes spotted Kyle pretending to repair a bridle but mostly keeping an eye out for Heyes. He stood and nervously hitched up his pants. "Y'okay, Heyes?"

"Fine, Kyle, fine. It looks like we're gonna be robbin' a train," Heyes replied, slapping the scruffy outlaw on the shoulder.

"Y'mean yer gonna do it? What about the Kid? I saw him ride out."

Swinging him around with his arm around his shoulders, Heyes pulled him close and, as they walked, said quietly, "Yup, we're gonna do it, but not exactly as Captain Glover has in mind. Kid's doin' his part on the outside. Keep it under your hat, all right?"

"You got it, Heyes," Kyle responded eagerly.

"Where's Wheat?"

"In the bunkhouse. He ain't been hisself since Lobo was killed. It was him what brung Cap'n Glover an' 'is boys in so he figgers Lobo gettin' shot like that was his fault."

"I'll deal with Wheat in a while. Can you show me Lobo's grave?"

"Sure, it's over here."

Kyle led his former leader to a lone tree set a ways off behind the bunkhouse and there, beneath the twisted branches, was a solitary grave, its simple wooden marker crudely carved with the one word: Lobo.

Heyes took off his hat and stared in silence at the mound of dirt that had yet to sprout even a weed, and felt his heart burn in his chest. How many jobs had they done together? Heyes had lost count, but he had always known he could count on Lobo to pull his weight and sometimes someone else's, too. He had always been ready for a poker game and, win or lose, had always kept his happy-go-lucky nature.

"Tell me what happened, Kyle," he said after several long minutes had passed.

"Well, at first after Wheat had brung the cap'n an' his men up here an' explained the idee of hittin' the payroll train ever'body was purty excited, even Lobo, but we figgered Wheat'd be in charge. When the cap'n started bossin' ever'body around like we was soldiers the fellas started t'get a little proddy, but the thought of all that money kep' 'em quiet. One day we was all out in front of the bunkhouse, Lobo had just come in from lookout. Anyways the cap'n was rantin' and ravin' 'bout somethin', keepin' our bunks made proper and sweepin' out the bunkhouse or some such Army nonsense, an' Lobo up an' says, 'If I'd'a wanted t'be ordered around like this, I'd'a joined the Army, but I didn't an' so I'm outta here! Any a you boys comin' with me?' Nobody said nuthin' so Lobo gets back on his horse an' starts to ride away when the cap'n pulls his pistol an' drills ol' Lobo in the back! I tell ya, Heyes, ya coulda picked my jaw plumb off the ground! Ever'body was so shocked nobody moved! We just stared at Lobo layin' there in the dirt—dead! Cap'n said the same'd happen t'anybody else what got the idee of leavin'. Ain't nobody had the nerve t'try since."

Heyes listened to the recitation without comment, only the darkening of his eyes to almost black and the hardening of his lips showed his feelings. Kyle wisely kept his mouth shut after he'd finished having seen that look in the past and not wanting to be on the receiving end of what came after.

Several moments more Heyes stood there silently and then he said, "I'm gonna take care of this, Lobo, don't you worry! Come on, Kyle, we've got work to do!" Shoving his hat back on his head, Heyes spun on his heel and strode purposely towards the bunkhouse.

Out from under the watchful eyes of their new leader and his men, the greeting the Devil's Hole gang gave their ex-leader was more exuberant, with many slaps on the back and smiles. Heyes greeted each one by name that he knew and was introduced to the few who had joined since he and the Kid had left. Overall, their reaction was of relief, the hope in their eyes that help had come all too clear to see. It made Heyes' heart ache.

Except for one. Wheat hadn't gotten up from his bunk to greet Heyes, but had continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling. He didn't even seem to have noticed anything going on.

"Wheat," Heyes said, and the others parted to give him space. Wheat didn't respond, or move. "Wheat, y'gotta snap outta this; I need your help!" He stepped up to the bunk and looked down on the man who had so often vied with him for leadership of the gang. _"__Wheat!"_ Heyes squatted down by the bunk and spoke for Wheat alone. "What happened to Lobo wasn't your fault!"

At that Wheat turned his head and Heyes saw the pain in the other's eyes. "I brought 'em here, Heyes," he rasped hoarsely.

"You didn't tell Lobo to go and you didn't shoot 'im!" Heyes insisted.

"You always said, Heyes, that the leader was responsible for whatever happened to his men, didn't you?"

Heyes had no answer to that because he _had _always said that and taken the words to heart himself and, to be quite honest, but _only_ to himself, he _did_ blame Wheat. Blame served no purpose, however. "Wallowing in self-pity ain't gonna bring Lobo back! We gotta deal with Glover and his men before they get you _all_ killed, and I assure you nothin' would make 'em happier! You think they _really_ intend to share the loot with you? They're settin' you up!"

Wheat raised himself up onto his elbows, a frown drawing his brows together. "You sure?" he demanded.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Those no-good, dirty-rotten…"Wheat swore as he leaped to his feet.

"Take it easy, Wheat, we've gotta act like we don't know. I've got a plan!"

"Oh, well, that's all right then!" Wheat said, hitching up his pants.

Two days later the Devil's Hole gang rode into the tiny nearby town of Eureka. Originally Captain Glover had only intended Heyes, in the company of two of his men, to fetch the necessary supplies: fuse, putty, blasting caps, and other sundries. Heyes had convinced him the gang would perform better if they were allowed to let off some steam. Glover had agreed but put them under strict orders to not get drunk, which Heyes had reinforced, though for his own reasons.

His purchases made, Heyes made his way to the saloon where the gang drank uncharacteristically quietly. He paused in between the swinging doors, his eyes searching the dimness. A smile lit his face, quickly erased, when he spotted a familiar floppy brown hat on top of a head of blond curls; Kid Curry sat at a table with Wheat, Kyle, and Hank.

"Hey, Heyes!" Kyle shouted. "Look who's here!"

Curry looked up and blue eyes locked with brown. Heyes swaggered over to the table. "Are you still plannin' to throw away your chance at amnesty, Heyes?"

"Are you still turnin' down a fortune?" he retorted.

"Heyes, we've worked too long and too hard to throw it all away now!"

"Well, what kind of genius would I be if I threw fifty-thousand dollars away? Guess we ain't got anything to talk about," Heyes shrugged and turned away.

Curry leaped up from the table and grabbed Heyes' elbow. "I'm not gonna let you do it, Heyes!"

The powerful blow to the jaw took Curry by surprise and sent him sprawling backwards over the table. "You ain't got a choice, Kid!" Heyes snarled.

Fury shot sparks of blue fire from Kid's eyes and he regained his balance before burying his fist in his partner's belly. "Ooof!" the air whooshed out of Heyes' lungs and he bent over in pain only to be thrown backward by Kid's uppercut. Completely enraged, he flung himself on the Kid and the two sprawled onto the floor, each trying to pound the other senseless. Frozen in shock, the Devil's Hole gang could only stand in silence and stare at the two formerly inseparable friends locked in combat.

Gaining the upper hand, Heyes straddled Curry. He grabbed Kid's vest in both hands and began to slam him against the floor as he ground out, "Don't…ever…get in…my…way…again!" Finished, he threw him back down and got to his feet. He dusted himself off, picked up his hat, and without a final look back stalked out of the saloon.

Uncertain just what to do the other members of the gang remained frozen until Heyes stuck his head back in and snapped, "Let's go!" at which point they nearly fell over each other in their haste to be the first one out.

Curry raised himself onto his elbows and watched them leave, then staggered to his feet. With his floppy hat he beat the dust off his clothes, still staring after his friends. He waved off the concerned barkeeper, righted the table and a chair and sat down, gingerly touching the corner of his mouth where a trickle of blood had begun. All around him the normal noise of the saloon picked up where it had left off, and then he retrieved the wadded up piece of paper that Heyes had managed to jam into his vest pocket during the fight. Opened, it showed a simple, but accurate map, and a date. Curry smiled at the inventiveness of his partner and then winced at the pain that simple act caused him.

"What happened to you?" Captain Glover demanded sternly upon seeing Heyes' battered and bruised face.

"Kid Curry tried again to convince me of the error of my ways," Heyes replied ruefully, gingerly touching the swelling on his cheek that was rapidly darkening to purple.

"Maybe I should take care of him more permanently, if he's going to continue to be a pest."

"No need, captain, I've convinced him for good that I'm going to do this; we won't be seeing any more of him," Heyes assured the other man.

"Very well, but if he, or anyone else, interferes in my plans they will live to regret it as they die most unpleasantly!"

The cold menace in the former officer's voice left no doubt in Heyes' mind that he was capable of fulfilling his threat. Trepidation filled him for, as plans went, this one was at best shaky with plenty of chances for error; definitely not the best Hannibal Heyes plan, just the best possible under these circumstances. He hoped nothing would go wrong, for once.

Two days later Heyes leaned on his saddlehorn supervising the gang setting a large tree trunk across the tracks; in the distance was the sound of the approaching train. How well he remembered the many times before when he'd been in this place, the eager anticipation of his plan coming to fruition. Now, though the anticipation remained, it was tinged with dread that something would go wrong and the stakes riding on the success of his plan seemed so much higher, though capture or death had always been risks.

"That'll do, boys, let's go!" he called and his men, no, his friends, ran for their horses and, as the train drew closer, they withdrew under the cover of the trees.

The shriek of metal on metal and the hiss of escaping steam seemed never ending as the massive weight of the locomotive took time to come to a stop. The hidden outlaws burst from their cover and immediately went to work taking control of the passengers, herding them out of the cars and bunching them up a safe distance away.

Heyes, Captain Glover, and his two ever-present guards, went directly to the boxcar that held the payroll-containing safe. He made quick work of opening the padlock on the outside of the doors and they slid open to reveal two Army guards that had been locked in to protect the payroll: one a grizzled veteran sergeant, the other a fuzz-faced private with a shock of rusty hair and a face full of freckles, both with rifles aimed at the open door. "Stop right there!" the youngster ordered with a nervous quaver in his voice.

"Private Collins? What are you doing on this detail?" Captain Glover barked.

Startled at being recognized by one of the outlaws attempting to rob the train, the young soldier looked more carefully at the speaker. "Captain Glover! What are you doing with these outlaws?"

"Leading them, of course. You didn't answer my question."

"I volunteered, sir. I was told I would get a promotion to corporal if this payroll got safely through to Fort Laramie," the boy said proudly.

"Well, son, I'm very sorry to see you here and sorrier still to tell you that you won't be receiving that promotion." Captain Glover raised his pistol and, before the startled soldier could lift the weapon he'd lowered when he'd recognized the officer, fired one shot directly into the boy's heart. He collapsed to the floor of the freight car, the look of surprise still on his face.

Heyes' face blanched at the cold-blooded murder. "What're you doing?" he exclaimed. "There was no need to kill the boy!"

"On the contrary, Mr. Heyes, there can be no witnesses who recognize me. Sergeant Grimes, move that out of sight!" Glover ordered the grizzled veteran who hadn't moved or spoken during all of this, nor even flinched at the death of his companion. Now he leaped to obey the ex-officer.

"Your inside man, captain?" Heyes queried.

"Precisely. He was to be the only guard in the car. I'm truly sorry to have had to kill Private Collins. He was my aide-de-camp for awhile, a good soldier with potential," he sighed, an actual look of sorrow on his face. "But he died doing his duty and that's all a soldier can hope for! Come, Mr. Heyes, you have sufficient time but none to waste!"

Giving the former officer a final incredulous look, Heyes easily made the transfer from his horse's back to the freight car. His eyes uneasily followed the bloody trail of the body to where it had been dragged into a corner and left, then hardened in anger and determination. "Hand me my tools," he said.

A burlap sack was unstrapped from his saddle and handed up.

"Do you need any assistance?" Glover asked.

"Sergeant Grimes here will do," Heyes replied. "Mostly make sure this train doesn't do any jerking, or other sudden movements, especially when I'm working with the nitro! If it blows up prematurely that'll be the end of your precious payroll!"

Blocking any other concerns from his mind, Heyes began his preparations, first carefully applying the putty around the door to seal it tightly. He glanced at his pocket watch and began timing. "Where's the nitro, Sergeant?"

Without answering, the soldier crossed the car and opened a satchel from which he gently removed a small box. He carried it gingerly across to the safe and set it on the floor. "That's all I could get."

Heyes slid the box lid open and pulled aside the wads of wool that cushioned the bottle inside. The clear bottle was filled about halfway with a yellowish syrupy fluid. The sight of nitroglycerine always made Heyes' skin crawl. "That should be plenty." He checked his watch again. "Okay, Sergeant, I'm going to need you to pump." He connected the Bryant pump and set the soldier to pumping the air out of the safe while he kept an eye on the time, his mind wandering back over the other times he'd done this same thing, twice with the Kid manning the pump and the other with Harry Wagoner, against his will that time much like now. Silently he raged at those forces that continually dragged him back into a life he was trying so desperately to leave behind, as the second hand swept around.

"Okay, that's enough," he said finally and grinned maliciously as the older man straightened somewhat painfully and wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. "Didn't know outlawin' was such hard work, did ya?"

The sergeant didn't reply, just glared balefully at the former outlaw.

"That's what this is, you know," Heyes chatted on as he disconnected the rubber tube from the pump. "Outlawin'"

"Quit yappin' an' get on with it!" snarled the sergeant.

"All right, no need to get proddy, just tryin' to help out a newcomer, is all." Heyes shrugged and inserted a funnel into the end of the rubber tube. "Here, hold this and _steadily_ or you'll blow us all up!"

The soldier took the funnel while Heyes squatted down and ever so gently lifted the bottle, and ever so slowly stood up again. He uncorked the bottle and glanced over at the sergeant who stared mesmerized at the volatile liquid. He noticed the slight tremble in his hand. "You'd better let me take that," he said, retrieving the funnel. "You'd better come up with more nerves than that if you're gonna be an outlaw – - it ain't for the faint-hearted!"

"I ain't no outlaw!" snapped the other.

"No?" Heyes quirked his eyebrow. "When did they make robbin' a train legal?" he needled the sergeant.

"Shut up an' pay attention t'what yer doin'!"

Heyes grinned and tipped the bottle gently until the nitro began to trickle into the funnel. Several tense moments passed as it gradually filled up the funnel. Deeming it was enough, he carefully righted the bottle and set it on top of the safe, then allowed the liquid in the funnel to flow through the tube and into the newly created vacuum inside the safe. He removed the tube and replaced it with a blasting cap and fuse. "Best get out now," he told the sergeant.

With relief, the older man took the advice and jumped down from the car. Heyes unreeled the fuse to a relatively safe spot behind a large barrel. He struck a match and lit the fuse and as the tiny flame ate its way across the floor, he put his back to the barrel, pulled his knees up, and covered his ears.

The blast shook the entire car, ramming it forward, buckling the coupling that connected it to the next car, the force rippling down the train like a pond disturbed by a rock, dissipating against the solid locomotive.

Coughing and waving his hat to clear some of the smoke that filled the car, Heyes stood and turned, gratified to see the safe standing open, its thick door deformed by the blast.

Captain Glover galloped up to the open car. "Is it open?" he shouted.

"Did you doubt me?" Heyes asked in reply.

"I guess I wondered if some of the stories I'd heard about you were just dime novel tales. Now I know better." Glover's face actually relaxed into some semblance of a smile. "Here, put the money in these." He handed Heyes some roomy saddlebags. Heyes reached out to take them as gunshots rang out from all sides. "Fill them quickly!" Glover shouted and wheeled away, calling to his men to take cover and shoot to kill.

The passengers cowered in fear as the outlaws returned fire. For long minutes the gunfire continued, sounding much like a major battle in the war.

"Hold your fire!" Captain Glover shouted and silence slowly reigned, but for the ringing in everyone's ears. "Did anybody see who they were shooting at?"

The outlaws looked at each other, shaking their heads negatively, Glover's men, too.

With a look of chagrin and sudden suspicion, the military man leaped onto his horse and galloped back to the open car. Leaning in, his worst fears were realized as he saw Hannibal Heyes sprawled face down in a spreading pool of blood, the safe empty and the saddlebags gone!

"Curry!" Glover spat out.

"What happened, captain?" Sergeant Grimes asked coming up alongside.

"We've been robbed by Kid Curry! He killed his partner first, though."

"Hannibal Heyes is dead? You sure, sir?" The sergeant leaned in and saw the still body and pool of blood.

"Am I sure it was Curry, or am I sure he's dead? The answer to both of those questions is yes! Now round up the men, find his trail! He's going to regret he was ever born when I get hold of him!" Seeing his sergeant still staring at the body, Glover snapped. "Well, go on! He's got enough of a head start as it is! Tell the men he's to be taken alive!"

"Yes, sir!" Grimes spun around and raced to gather the men.

"Too bad, Mr. Heyes, I truly would have enjoyed killing you myself!" sighed Glover before wheeling his horse and riding off with his men, back the way the train had come.

It was long minutes after the sound of their hoof beats had faded and the dust was beginning to settle before the huddled passengers dared begin to move. One other felt it safe to move, too. Hannibal Heyes lifted himself up from the congealing puddle of blood, an expression of satisfaction on his face. He reached into the bloody mess of his shirt and pulled out a flattened balloon and tossed it aside. He rose to his feet and looked out the door in the direction the outlaws had ridden and muttered to himself, "Good luck, Kid! Ride hard and don't let 'em catch you!"

A piercing scream caused him to spin around, gun in hand, just in time to see a lady passenger faint into her companion's arms upon seeing Heyes standing there covered in gore.

"That outlaw said you were dead!" another exclaimed.

"He was a mite premature," Heyes replied with a smile. "I'd appreciate it if one of you'd bring my horse over here."

Terrified of the gun in his hand, several men leapt to do his bidding. Heyes looked sheepishly at the gun and restored it to its holster. "Look, folks, I don't mean you any harm, I just need to get out of here!" A young man ran up leading Heyes' horse. "Thank you, would you hand me my saddlebags, please?"

Saddlebags in hand Heyes retreated into the car and over to the corner where the young soldier's body lay. He rolled him over gently revealing a heap of money. "Rest easy, Private Collins, you did your job well," he said softly, then hurriedly packed the money into the bags.

He leaped down from the car and threw the saddlebags across his horse, tying them securely to the saddle. "The army will be sending help soon," he told the silent passengers. "When they get here tell them Hannibal Heyes has taken their payroll to Porterville and they can recover it from Sheriff Lom Trevors. Got it?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Heyes," the young man who had brought his horse said.

With a final look in the direction his partner had gone, Heyes reined his horse around and went the other way.

Kid Curry rode as if the Devil himself were on his trail, which was close enough as didn't matter truth be told. He knew what had happened to Lobo and had seen the lifeless body of the young soldier so he was pretty sure of his fate should he be caught. He had no idea how long his diversion would keep them busy so he concentrated on putting as much distance between them as possible.

Heyes' idea of using quarter sticks of dynamite strung together by fuse to simulate gunfire had been a stroke of genius. He wasn't too sure about them being fooled by Heyes playing dead in a pool of rabbit blood, but his partner had been pretty certain they'd be more concerned about finding the missing money than making sure he was dead. Curry hoped he was right because the penalty for failure, for either of them if any part of this mad scheme failed, was certain death. With that thought in mind, he urged his mount on to greater speed.

He was headed roughly in the direction of Devil's Hole, which was the direct opposite of the direction Heyes needed to take to Porterville. He hoped to lose his pursuers in the rocky badlands, or at least slow them down in order to give Heyes enough time to get the payroll into Lom's hands. They had agreed to meet in the sheriff's office in three days time if all went well. If it didn't, well, Curry didn't figure he needed to worry about what to do then.

He paused at the top of a hill and looked back. There, in the distance, but not as far back as he'd've liked, was the dust raised by many riders. This was a familiar scene to Curry from the many posses he and his partner had run from over the years, but one he had hoped he was done with. Most of them had given up once the outlaws had left the sheriff's jurisdiction, but several had been relentless, chasing them for days and hundreds of miles with only the hope of twenty thousand dollars in reward money. How much harder would this posse of outlaws run with the reward being five hundred thousand dollars? Curry's only hope was to lose them.

Into the rugged hills he rode with frequent looks over his shoulder, always seeing that cloud of dust behind him.

As the sun fell behind the hills, the shadows and impending darkness made the going treacherous and he began to look for a likely spot to shelter for the night, but the hostile environment offered nothing in the way of comfort. It was fully dark and his horse had stumbled twice when he reined in where he was, put his back against a boulder that still radiated some of the afternoon's heat and prepared to wait out the darkness. His horse snuffled half-heartedly at the sparse clumps of weeds that struggled for survival, while Curry gnawed on a tough piece of jerky and drank sparingly from his canteen.

The first gray light of dawn found him mounted and on the move.

The rocky trail kept the dust to a minimum, but as Curry topped a rise he spotted the dark mass of riders pursuing him. To his dismay, they had gained ground—they were less than an hour behind him.

The day wore on with Curry managing to maintain his lead, but his horse was flagging, having had little forage the night before and no water at all. Realizing he wasn't going to be able to lose his pursuers, he rummaged through his mind for an alternative plan. He could see the rock formation that marked the entrance to Devil's Hole and he headed directly for it, knowing that one rifle could hold off a small army in the narrow cleft as long as the shooter had ammunition. He had no desire to kill anyone, but it was beginning to look like he'd have little choice.

He had reached the bottom of the hill, ready to cross the relatively flat and green approach to the Hole, when he heard a shout from above. A quick glance over his shoulder showed the first of the outlaws topping the ridge. How had they moved so fast? he wondered. Knowing there wasn't going to be an answer, he spurred his horse forward, hoping for the safety of his former hideout, the clatter of hooves recklessly racing down the incline telling him the race was on.

Relative safety was in sight, his hopes rising, when his horse stumbled to its knees, throwing Curry over its head to slam with stunning force to the ground, his head striking a rock, plunging him into darkness!

A rough slap that rocked his already throbbing head to the side brought him back to an ugly reality. Two of Captain Glover's men held him upright, his arms twisted behind his back, Glover himself standing in front of him, his hand raised for another blow, a look of black fury on his face. "Where's the money, Curry?" he demanded, his fist rocking the Kid's head back the other way, blood beginning to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Through blurred vision, Curry could see another of the soldier's turned outlaw holding the empty saddlebags, their filling of wadded up newspaper tossed to the ground. Knowing his luck had run out, he realized that all he could do was continue to give his partner enough time to get safely to Porterville. He clamped his teeth tightly together and glared his defiance at the ex-military man.

A snap of Glover's fingers brought another of his henchmen forward, rolling up his shirtsleeves, baring his beefy forearms, a cruel sneer twisting his lips. Dread twisted Curry's guts only to be driven out, along with his breath, by a fist in his belly! His knees buckled but he was held upright by his arms still twisted behind his back. His breath wheezed into his lungs when they began to function again.

"Where's the money, Curry?" Glover demanded again. "It will only go harder on you if you do not tell me." At Curry's continued silence, he snapped his fingers again and his tormentor's fists pummeled him, stomach, ribs, face, over and over again until his eyesight dimmed and even the pain in his arms couldn't keep him upright.

He sagged in his captor's arms, gasping painfully for each breath. A hand in his hair jerked his head up and he stared through the one eye not swelling shut into Glover's face. "You beat me to death and you're never gonna find the money," he gasped out.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Curry, you won't die for a long time yet, and, I assure you, you _will_ tell me where the money is before you do!"

"You like to place a small wager on that?" the gunslinger asked, still defiant.

"There is no sport in wagering on a sure thing, Mr. Curry. Put him on his horse, we'll finish this in Devil's Hole!" Captain Glover told his men. "You will regret not having told me now while I'm still feeling agreeable, Mr. Curry; life for you is now about to become most disagreeable!"

The Kid's head fell forward as the hand released his hair and he was dragged to his waiting horse where he was helped into the saddle. His hands were then bound behind his back and his feet tied into the stirrups so he couldn't fall off.

A wave of dizziness swept over him and he began to topple sideways but strong arms caught him and held him steady. He looked up through bleary eyes into Wheat's face. Concern filled the older outlaw's eyes as he began, "Kid…"

"Don't, Wheat," Kid's harsh whisper interrupted.

"The money ain't worth your life, Kid," Wheat insisted.

"Ain't about the money, Wheat." Curry's one good eye blazed. "Stay out of this!"

"Whatever you say, Kid." Wheat made sure Curry could sit somewhat steadily before he let go and at Captain Glover's command they moved out.

It was a nightmarish ride, seemingly without end, Curry's abused body protesting all the way, all of his limited concentration focused on staying somewhat upright in the saddle. It did have an end, though, as the sun set for the second time since the aborted train robbery.

No guards had been left at Devil's Hole so they entered the hideout unchallenged. They came to a stop in front of the leader's cabin. Curry's feet were untied and he was unceremoniously dragged from the saddle.

"Dyer, Walters, take Curry and lock him in the shed out back; make sure you tie his feet and check that his hands are still tied tight. Sergeant Grimes, supervise the disarming of the Devil's Hole gang! I don't want them getting any feelings of sympathy for their old friend!"

"You ain't got no call t'do that, cap'n!" Curry heard Wheat protest loudly as he was hauled away. Then he was tossed into the darkness of the shed, his feet bound tightly then pulled up and tied to the rope that bound his hands. His already aching body protested this further abuse and he groaned. "None o'that noise!" snapped one of his captors and gagged him with a bandana. "That oughta hold ya! Ain't so dangerous now, are ya?" he snickered and slammed the door, leaving Curry alone and miserable in the darkness.

Dawn comes even after the darkest and most interminable of nights, though the bright rays of sunshine that filtered through Kid Curry's prison were not heralds of hope, but harbingers of renewed torment. Curry had spent a cold and unpleasant night, mostly awake and acutely aware of his discomfort, though several times during the dark hours he had, not slept, but lost consciousness and each time he had come back to his senses he had longed to return to that blessed oblivion where he felt neither cold, nor pain. To distract himself during the wakeful times, he had tried to calculate if Heyes had had time to reach Porterville yet. What would he do when Curry didn't show up? How long would he wait? Would he ever find out what had happened to his partner? One side of Curry hoped he never would because he feared what it would do to his friend, who had already seen in his relatively short life more darkness than anyone should.

His musings were abruptly interrupted by the rattling of the lock on the door, followed by the blinding sunshine that flooded the small shed causing Curry to clench his eyes shut against the glare. He felt the rope cut between his hands and feet and then his feet were freed, the gag removed, and he was hauled upright. His attempt to stand was aborted by numb feet that refused to support him and so he was dragged out into the daylight and around to the front of the leader's cabin where Captain Glover stood awaiting him, a long whip coiled in his hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Curry, has your night of solitude loosened your tongue any?" he asked cheerily.

Had Curry been inclined to speak he may not have been physically able due to the dryness of his tongue, but since he wasn't anyway he just glared defiantly.

"Still stubborn, eh? We'll see how long that will last. Sergeant Grimes, go fetch the rest of the men, they are to be witnesses to what happens to those who defy me."

"Yes, sir!" Sergeant Grimes, who Curry recognized as the one who had gleefully beaten him, ran to roust the gang from the bunkhouse.

"Dyer, Walters, be so kind as to strip Mr. Curry to the waist!" Glover ordered.

Curry's feet had recovered their feeling and so he remained standing when the arms that had held him let go. The rope around his wrists were cut then his vest was jerked off followed by his shirt with no respect for the buttons that popped off and fell to the dirt. In less than a minute he stood bare chested in the chill of the morning, goosebumps prickling his skin, not just from the cold but from the trepidation that filled him.

"Bind him between these posts."

The leader's cabin had a small roofed porch and that roof was supported by two posts not quite two arms' width apart. To each of these posts was tied one of Curry's wrists, then his ankles, until he was spread-eagled between them. By this time Grimes had returned with the rest of the gang.

"What's goin' on?" Kyle asked.

"In the Army a soldier who disobeys must be disciplined until he learns obedience. Mr. Curry continues in his defiance in refusing to tell me the location of the money he stole from us, therefore I have decided that he will taste the discipline of a soldier." He shook out the whip. "Sergeant Grimes, you will administer five lashes to Mr. Curry's back!"

"You ain't gonna _whip_ th'Kid!" Kyle exclaimed in protest, stepping forward.

"Step back into your place, or you will feel the lash yourself!"

"Git back here, Kyle!" Wheat said, grabbing his friend's arm.

"Dyer, Walters, Taylor, Green, you will keep the Devil's Hole Gang covered and shoot the first man who tries to interfere!"

Curry, whose back was to all this, heard the cocking of four guns. "Wheat, don't let 'em do anything stupid!" he said over his shoulder. "I'm holdin' you responsible!"

"Good advice, Mr. Curry, let's hope they are less defiant than you are! Proceed, Sergeant Grimes."

Although he heard the whistle of the whip through the air, Curry was unprepared for the fiery sting of the lash against the tender skin of his back and he instinctively jerked away as much as his bound limbs would allow with a pained cry. Chagrined he grit his teeth against any further cries and fisted his hands and tightened his muscles against cowardly and futile attempts to escape the lash as the second kiss of the whip left a vivid welt near the first. The third and fourth came quickly and the clenching and unclenching and twisting of his hands in their ropes were the only indication of his pain. Sergeant Grimes, a master of the trade, waited until his victim's muscles relaxed and his head drooped forward before dealing out the fifth stripe – this one drawing beads of blood that soon became a thin trickle down Curry's back. Kid flung his head back up, his back arched, and a groan escaped his throat.

"Where is the money, Mr. Curry?" Captain Glover questioned the panting former outlaw. "Surely you can see it is useless to remain silent."

"You're never gonna see that money again, Glover!" Curry spat out.

"Five more, Sergeant."

Pale faced and silent, the Devil's Hole Gang watched as one of the men who had led them to become one of the most successful gang of outlaws in the West was beaten mercilessly. Kyle, after the eighth stroke, couldn't take it anymore and turned his back, Wheat's arm across his chest preventing him from running away and possibly getting shot for his trouble. Wheat watched as more blood ran down the Kid's back and cursed Heyes for making him swear an oath of silence.

Sweat coursed as freely down Curry's face as the blood down his back, and a red haze obscured his vision after the tenth and he could barely hear Captain Glover repeat his question through the ringing in his ears. Unable to find his voice, it was all he could do to shake his head 'no', then cringed internally as he heard the order for five more lashes.

Coherent thought had escaped him by the fifteenth stripe and he couldn't have answered if he'd wanted to. He hung loosely in his bonds, all strength gone. His pants were soaked with his blood and his wrists torn raw from his struggles. The face of his tormentor faded in and out of his vision speaking words he could no longer understand. His entire reality had shrunken to the fires that burned in his body.

Kyle twitched with every snap of the whip and when he heard Captain Glover order five more, he looked up at Wheat and whispered desperately, "Y'gotta _do_ somethin', Wheat!"

Wheat had been fighting with himself all this time, torn between two loyalties, and at Kyle's whisper he looked at the rest of the gang who were all looking at him, _to_ him for leadership, and he made up his mind. As Grimes limbered his arm for the next five, the sometime leader of the gang stepped forward and said, "Wait, stop, that's enough! _I'll_ tell you where the money is!"

"_You?_ How do you know where it is?" Glover exclaimed, holding up his hand to Grimes to hold the whip.

"Well, y'see, Heyes let me in on the plan t'stop you from gettin' that there payroll."

"Hannibal Heyes is dead!"

"No, he ain't. He was fakin'. Kid here never had the money, he was just a decoy, while Heyes took the money to the sheriff in Porterville who'd see to it the Army got it back! So if'n y'want the money back yer gonna hafta go to Porterville t'get it!" Wheat finished with a hitch to his pants.

Captain Grimes paced angrily back and forth on the porch. Suddenly a twisted smile lit his face and he stopped. "Hannibal Heyes will jump at the chance to bring that money here to me."

"How you figger that?" Wheat asked.

"Kyle, you will go to Porterville and find Heyes. You will tell him that I will kill Kid Curry unless I have that money in my hands in three days! If either you, or he, are too slow and don't make it back here within those three days, by the time he gets here Curry will be dead! Now _move_!"

Kyle ran as if he had a tail and it was on fire.

Chapter Two

Hannibal Heyes restlessly paced Lom Trevor's office, pausing to peer out the window on those occasions when he heard a horse approaching, only to start again when he saw the rider wasn't Kid Curry.

Lom watched him sympathetically from the comfort of his chair. "Heyes, you gotta relax! This pacing ain't gonna get the Kid here any faster!"

"He should've been here yesterday! Something's gone wrong, I know it has!" Heyes replied in a worried voice.

"If it has, it don't mean it's anything serious," the sheriff soothed. "Maybe his horse came up lame, is all."

"No, no, it's worse than that; I can feel it! It was a crazy plan! Too many variables, too many things that could go wrong!"

"Sit down, Heyes, and try to relax. Have a cup of coffee." Lom handed his friend a tin cup of the hot liquid as Heyes perched on the edge of a chair. "It was a good plan. You saved the payroll, didn't you?"

Heyes sipped the coffee absentmindedly. "What good was saving the payroll if I lost Kid in the process?" He set the cup on the desk as he stood and resumed his restless circuit of the office.

Hoof beats pounding down the street caught both men's attention and Heyes eagerly swung open the door. A nondescript horse, lathered from a long fast ride, foam on its lips, slid to a halt at the hitching rail in front of the sheriff's office. The rider leaped from the saddle, dusty and sweaty himself, his amiable face a kaleidoscope of changing expressions: nervous, worried, scared, relieved.

"Kyle!" Heyes exclaimed. "What're you doin' here? Where's the Kid?"

"Hold on, Heyes, let's take it inside off the street," Lom intervened. "Come on in, Kyle. Would you like a drink?"

"Thanks, Lom, my throat's 'bout dry as southern Utah in the summertime!"

Lom poured the little outlaw a generous glass of whiskey and he gulped half of it in one swallow while Heyes nearly danced with impatience.

"_Well?_" he demanded finally. "Why'd you come racin' in here like a bat outa hell?"

"It ain't good, Heyes."

"Just spit it out, Kyle!"

Kyle swallowed another slug of whiskey. "Cap'n Glover's got the Kid, Heyes, an' he sent me t'tell you that if'n y'don't bring 'im the money in three days, well, one an' a half now, he's gonna kill the Kid! He'll do it, too, Heyes, he's crazy! I ain't even sure the Kid'll be alive when y'git there - he's in bad shape!"

Heyes' face became grim. "What happened, Kyle?"

Kyle regaled them with the story of the chase ending with, "I figger he'd've made it if'n his horse hadn't stumbled an' threw 'im! I never saw the cap'n as mad as when he saw there warn't no money in them saddlebags! He had his boys prit' near beat the Kid to death right there tryin' to make 'im tell where it was! Kid wouldn't say nothin', though. Cap'n said he knew how t'make 'im talk. He tied 'im up, half-nekkid and had 'im whipped! _Fifteen times!_ Kid still wouldn't tell 'im nothin' so, when the cap'n says t'give Kid five more, Wheat tells 'im that you wasn't dead an' that you'd taken the money here to the sheriff - the Kid woulda died if'n he hadn't, Heyes!"

Heyes' face had paled and his stomach had knotted as Kyle had recounted how his partner had been brutalized. The flesh of his back had flinched in sympathy as his mind had flashed back to the beatings he had suffered as a child at the home for waywards. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't answer his friend right away.

"Heyes? You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine," he said as he was jerked back to the here and now. "It's okay, Kyle, Wheat did the right thing," he told the worried outlaw. "You said Kid was in a bad way?"

Kyle nodded vigorously. "He was just sorta hangin' there, still like, his back lookin' like raw meat an' that ain't mentionin' the damage that Grimes done with 'is fists first!"

"Grimes, you say?"

"Yeah, an' he sure seemed ta enjoy doin' it! Whacha gonna do, Heyes? If'n we don' get there soon the cap'n's gonna kill Kid, if'n he ain't dead already! We gotta get that money to 'im fast!"

"Only problem with that, Kyle, is we don't have the money anymore," Lom put in. "Colonel Stone himself came to take charge of it."

"I'd see him in hell before I gave him one red cent anyway, Kyle!" Heyes snarled, his eyes burning bright with anger. "No, Glover and Grimes and the others are going to pay for what they did to the Kid with their own blood!"

"But how? There ain't but the two of us!"

"Three, Kyle," Lom put in.

"This ain't a job for the law, Lom, cuz what I'm gonna do if Kid dies is very much against the law." Heyes stared with hard eyes at his friend.

Lom pulled the star off his vest and threw it on the desk. "I ain't the law anymore, Heyes, an' I'm goin' with you! Or I'll be right behind you - don't forget I know the way into Devil's Hole! The Kid's my friend, too."

"All right, Lom, thanks. Will the gang back us up, Kyle?

"Sure, but Glover took our guns away!"

Heyes rolled his eyes at this news. "Some kind of dangerous outlaws you all are!" he exclaimed.

Kyle shrugged helplessly. "We ain't killers, Heyes, an' we ain't in no hurry t'git killed neither!"

"It's okay, Kyle. Lom, we're gonna need some extra guns, pistols, shotguns, rifles, whatever you've got and plenty of ammunition. Kyle, take your horse down to the livery stable and get a fresh one, and have the stableman saddle Lom's and my horses. I'm goin' over to the general store for some supplies. Make it quick, I want to be out of here in half an hour!"

"What's the plan, Heyes?" Lom wanted to know.

"Get the Kid back whatever it takes!"

"_That's_ a plan?" the lawman exclaimed incredulously.

"Everything else is just details! We'll work those out on the way!" Heyes replied over his shoulder as he rushed out the door with Kyle on his heels.

"Great! Just great!" Lom muttered as he began to gather up guns and ammunition.

Within the time that Heyes had set, the three men rode out of town, the extra firearms divided between them so no one horse would be slowed down by a heavier load. Had anyone noted their grimly determined faces they would have wondered what dire errand they were on.

Hannibal Heyes rode as if a demon were on his shoulder, or as if to outride the vision of Kid, whom he had sworn to protect all those long years ago, helplessly bound while the merciless whip shredded the skin of his back. Blue eyes filled with agony pled silently for reprieve, a reprieve that Heyes couldn't give him because he hadn't been there, because he had given his best friend the riskiest part of his plan to fulfill without back up of any kind. The logical part of his brain, the part that told him there was no other choice, that the Kid had accepted his part willingly, knowing the risks, and that he wouldn't blame Heyes for his current situation, had shut down, blocked by the guilt and blame that he heaped upon himself. Trying to escape his self-imposed torment, he urged his horse to greater speed.

"Heyes!" Lom shouted from behind, spurring his own horse in an attempt to catch up. He pulled alongside and again shouted, "Heyes! Slow down! Do you want to kill your horse?"

Jerked back to reality, Heyes heard the labored breath of his mount and guiltily reined the beast in, gradually slowing to a walk to allow it to cool. "Sorry, Lom, thanks," he said apologetically.

"A steady pace will get us there faster than breakneck speed and foundered horses," the lawman chastised.

"I know, I know, it's just… the _Kid_, Lom!" All of the desperation he couldn't express was packed into that one word.

"I understand, Heyes, but this ain't the time to lose your head; this is the time to live up to your reputation of a cool head in a tight situation. A touch of genius wouldn't be out of place either!"

"You're right, of course, Lom."

They rode in silence for some miles, Heyes sandwiched between the outlaw and the lawman. "You can't ride in there with Kyle an' me, Lom," he said eventually, breaking that silence. "In fact, I'm riding in there alone. I want you to stay outside, too, Kyle."

"But why, Heyes?" Kyle protested. "Yer gonna need somebody t'watch yer back!"

"No, I'll be perfectly safe, for a short time anyway, and during that time you and Lom are going to create a diversion."

"A what?"

"I brought some dynamite, Kyle. You're gonna blow things up!" Heyes explained simply.

Kyle's eyes lit up like a child's at Christmas. "Dynamite! Now yer talkin', Heyes! I'm gonna _like _this plan!"

"You've actually _got_ a plan, Heyes?" Lom asked doubtfully.

"I'm workin' on it, Lom, trust me."

"Oh, I'm trustin' you, Heyes. I'm just hopin' I don't live to regret it!" the older man replied with a wry twist to his lips.

"Don't worry, Lom, if this don't work out, you _won't_ live to regret it!" Heyes kicked his now rested horse into a ground-eating canter, effectively shutting off further discussion.

Further trying Heyes' limited patience was the coming of night and the need to make camp. He knew the foolishness of riding in the darkness, particularly on a night without the moon, and he also knew that they had sufficient time to reach Devil's Hole the next day, but the hours of enforced inactivity weighed on his spirit.

He was no help at all in setting up the camp or preparing the meal and when the food was ready he merely picked at it without appetite. His mood was sullen and uncommunicative which drew worried looks from Lom.

Kyle noticed and leaned closer to the lawman to whisper, "Don't worry, Lom, Heyes is always like this when he's comin' up with a plan."

"Really? How'd you all survive it?"

The scruffy outlaw spat the juice of his ever-present wad of tobacco and shrugged. "Mostly we just stayed out of 'is way. Kid was the only one what could talk to 'im without gettin' 'is head snapped off, but even he give Heyes 'is space. It'd all be worth it, though, when he come out of it, cuz there ain't a nicer feller t'be around when ever'thin'd come t'gether in 'is head."

"Sounds like you admire him a lot, Kyle."

"Ah, Heyes is the best, Kid, too! Not just anybody'd come back t'help us like they done! An' when they need us we're there for them, too. Ain't been the same since they left, but nobody holds it against 'em fer leavin'. Fact is it makes us look up to 'em even more. Well, we might as well turn in cuz I don't 'spect Heyes'll be sleepin' any time soon!" With that he spat the last of his tobacco and rolled himself into his bedroll. He was already snoring before Lom took his advice and sought his own blankets.

Heyes, lost in his own thoughts, didn't even notice that his two companions had abandoned him for sleep. He sat staring into the flames, dreading the long hours to come. It was in the dark hours of the night, when sleep eluded him, that the demons of memory tore into him, chasing him even into dreams when exhaustion would claim him. Tonight they seemed to have brought friends.

The dancing flames became Kid's body writhing in pain beneath the lash and he leapt to his feet seeking to escape the vision in movement, but it followed him, Kid's eyes appealing to him and then he was the boy, Jed, scared and confused that first night at the home for waywards, waking up crying from a nightmare. The young Hannibal had jumped down from his bunk and sat on the younger boy's bed, holding him close. "It's gonna be okay, Jed," he had soothed the weeping boy. "I'll take care of you."

"You promise, Han? You won't leave me?" Jed had raised those innocent, trusting blue eyes to meet Heyes' prematurely old brown ones.

"I promise, Jed. We're family now."

Heyes had made the same promise over the grave of the Kid's mother on that terrible day when he'd buried both of their families. Now he had failed to keep that oath and the guilt ate at his soul and the flames of anger that he had tamped down for so long began to smolder hotter, threatening to burst into a full-fledged conflagration.

Kid's mother's grave became Lobo's lonely grave under the scrawny tree in Devil's Hole and as he remembered Kyle's story his mind provided the graphic pictures of the outlaw jerking spasmodically as the treacherous bullet struck him in the back, falling to the dusty ground to lay staring sightlessly at the blue sky, his blood soaking into the thirsty ground. The flames leapt higher.

Heyes cursed and shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but it leapt instead to the railroad car and the young soldier, his face still wearing the peach fuzz of a boy, his expression one of surprised confusion as the man he'd once trusted put a bullet through his heart. He supposed he'd be shipped home to be buried by his family, his mother weeping softly over his grave, maybe a sweetheart, too. Or would he be buried in a lonely grave much like Lobo's with none to mourn him?

He conjured up the face of Captain Elliot Glover whose casual cruelty had brought him to this state and his heart burned with rage, the flames leaping from their containment, gleefully searing the former outlaw's soul and filling his heart with only one desire—to destroy Glover, to kill him with his own hands and thus avenge the young soldier, Lobo, and the Kid, and perhaps his blood would quench once and for all these flames that Heyes had sought to stamp out every day since the murders of his and the Kid's families.

Or would the blood, once spilled, breech the dam and begin a flood that could never be contained?

Heyes groaned aloud and rubbed his temples as he paced relentlessly. "Don't be dead, Kid, please don't be dead!" he muttered.

A pot of coffee was on the fire, its aroma opening the eyes of the sleepers. Lom sat up in his blankets and stretched stiff muscles unused to sleeping on the ground. "I've gotten soft," he groaned to himself. He rubbed his hands through his hair and staggered to his feet. He looked over and saw Kyle stirring but saw no other bedroll, no sign of Heyes. Looking more carefully, he finally spotted the former outlaw leaning against a tree, staring out at the distant hills where Devil's Hole was, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

Lom poured himself a cup of coffee and joined the younger man. "Did you get any sleep, Heyes?"

Heyes shook his head. "How could I sleep, Lom, knowing how Kid's suffering?"

"How much good can you do him if you're exhausted?"

"Don't worry, Lom, I'll do what I have to do and rest afterwards. I've got the details worked out – let's go to the fire so I can tell Kyle at the same time."

Kyle had set some bacon to frying over the fire and the pot of leftover beans from dinner was rewarming. "Breakfast'll be ready in a couple a minutes."

"You're a good man, Kyle," Lom said and the outlaw blushed at the praise.

"Okay, this is what we're gonna do," Heyes said, hunkering down. "Kyle, do you remember that back way into the Hole that I found a few years ago?"

"Sure do. It ain't much of a way, though."

"Exactly, which is why nobody found it before. You an' Lom go up that way while I go in the front. Find a spot where you can be out of sight but still have a good view. When I signal, you start throwing those sticks of dynamite, but don't actually blow anything up, we don't want to hurt any of our boys, just scare the bad guys. Work your way down while you're doin' it so you'll be able to pass those guns around. When Wheat an' the boys are armed start dealin' with Glover's men. Got it?"

"Got it! What's yer signal gonna be?"

"I'll wave my hat."

"That's a pretty obvious signal, Heyes, don't you think it'll raise some suspicions?" Lom asked, uncertain.

"No, because I'll have told them I'm signaling Kyle to bring down the money, not being stupid enough to bring it in without first making sure the Kid's still alive."

"Might just work," the sheriff nodded.

"'Course it'll work! It's a Hannibal Heyes plan!" Kyle said, grinning. "Grab some grub now so we can get this show on the road!"

Lom was pleased to note that Heyes seemed to have a decent appetite this morning and his mood seemed, while not exactly cheerful, lighter, as though a weight had been lifted. "I see what you mean, Kyle," he commented. "About after the plan comes together."

"Ever' time, Lom!" Kyle cackled with glee.

"You been flappin' your jaws, Kyle?" Heyes glowered at the scrawny outlaw.

"Nah, just easin' Lom's mind 'bout how it is workin' with a genius!"

"Ah, I see."

They broke camp as soon as they'd eaten and were on the road before the sun was too far off the horizon. They pushed their horses as hard as they could, slowing them only long enough to get their wind back before urging them on again. Sundown would mark the end of the third day and the end of the Kid's life and that was one deadline Heyes had no intention of missing.

They came within sight of the Devil's Hole entrance, but still out of sight of the lookouts, shortly after noon. Heyes had them pull up under the shade of a tree, which further protected them from the unlikely chance of being seen.

"All right, this is where we split up," he told the other two while unburdening his horse of his share of the extra supplies. He rummaged in the bag for a moment before pulling out a small box, which he set on the ground. He retied the bag and handed it to Kyle, who tied it around his saddle horn. "I figure it'll take you about forty-five minutes to get in place, don't you think, Kyle?"

"That oughta 'bout do it," Kyle agreed.

"Good. I'll give you that long of a head start, then I'm going in. Good luck." He reached up and shook Lom's then Kyle's hands.

"Be careful, Heyes," Lom said seriously.

"Don't worry, Lom, this is gonna work," Heyes replied with a smile. "Now get goin'!" He watched the two men ride away before adding under his breath, "It _has_ to work!"

Standing in the shade of the tree, doing his best not to fret, Heyes' mind circled back into the past, to other waits. He could still hear Kid say, "I hate waitin', Heyes! I just ain't no good at it!" Yet his ability to lie back, tilt his hat over his eyes, and fall asleep wherever they were, even a jail cell, belied his words. Staring into the shadows, Heyes could almost see the Kid reclined against the trunk of the tree, hands behind his head, hat tilted, and seemingly relaxed and at peace. A ghost of a smile flitted across the dark haired man's lips at this mental image, tenderness warming the brown of his eyes.

Heyes couldn't put his finger on when exactly it had happened-when the frightened little boy Jed had been had turned into the steady, solid presence that Heyes so depended on—but it had, and he feared to imagine what he would do without the Kid at his back.

"_I ain't even sure he'll be alive when y'git there - - he was in a bad way!"_ Kyle's words echoed in Heyes' mind. The relaxed, peaceful Kid under the tree transformed into Kid's body, half-naked, sprawled in the grass, his back shredded and bloody from the whip, wrists torn from cruel bindings, his face bruised and battered, his lively blue eyes closed forever.

"NO!" Heyes shouted to the heavens, trying to thrust the hideous image from his mind, but it refused to leave. "No, no, no!" he dropped to his knees, beating his fists futilely against his forehead in an attempt to knock it out, but still it remained. "Why, Kid, why? Everything was goin' so well! Why is it we can't seem to catch a break? What did we do so evil that Heaven hates us so? Oh, no, Kid," he whispered hoarsely to the battered image. "No, no, no, no!" His heart constricted painfully in his chest and he felt the rage burning in his belly and boiling through his veins, a red haze glazing his vision as his eyes hardened and his lips thinned. "They're gonna pay, Kid! For every drop of your blood spilled, I'm gonna spill ten of theirs! I swear it, Kid!"

He took several slow deep breaths and pulled his pocket watch out. Seeing that forty minutes had passed, he climbed to his feet. He tightened the cinch on his saddle and retrieved the small box from the ground. He opened it to reveal the derringer he had purchased before leaving Porterville. Checking to see that it was loaded, he tucked it snugly into his right boot, then mounted and spurred his horse once again towards Devil's Hole.

Three shots echoed off the cliffs that guarded the entrance to Devil's Hole and Hannibal Heyes paused to reload before riding on, heedless of the wild beauty that not many days before he had taken the time to absorb, and shoved aside the sense of impending doom that filled him. His course was set and he followed it single-mindedly.

There was no Devil's Hole gang to meet him this time, the place looking almost like a ghost town, until he reached the leader's cabin that is. There he was met by three of Glover's men, each armed with a rifle. One kept his rifle aimed steadily at the former outlaw, while another stepped out of the shadows to relieve him of his six-gun, and the last knocking on the cabin door announcing, "He's here, sir!"

Captain Glover strode out of the cabin, followed closely by Sergeant Grimes. The red haze of rage threatened to block Heyes' vision again, but he viciously pushed it away until the proper time, instead he put on his best poker face as he leaned once again on his saddlehorn.

"Won't you step down, Mr. Heyes, so we can conduct our business like civilized men?" Captain Glover invited calmly, no hint of his own anger in his voice.

"I'd be happy to, captain, if there was another civilized man present!" Heyes replied with a hypocritical smile.

"Why, you …" Grimes started forward to avenge this insult to his commander, but the ex-officer extended his arm to prevent him.

"Where is Kyle? He should be with you." Glover looked pointedly behind Heyes.

"He's with me all right. You see, I'm not stupid enough to ride in here carrying five hundred thousand dollars and expect you to live up to your side of the bargain! Once I'm satisfied that the Kid is still alive, I'll signal Kyle to bring the money in. If the Kid is dead and I don't signal, he has orders to burn the money, preventing you from ever laying your hands on it!"

Glover's eyes narrowed as he evaluated Heyes' determination. "Very well. Step down and I will take you to see that Mr. Curry is indeed alive."

Heyes dismounted and tied his horse to the rail. "Where is he?"

"This way." Glover gestured and Heyes fell in alongside him, Grimes at their backs.

"Where's the gang?"

"I've had them locked in the bunkhouse to prevent any problems," was the reply.

Heyes looked towards the bunkhouse and saw Glover's missing man seated outside the door, rifle at the ready. "Pretty sad when you can't trust your cohorts," he commented.

"Very true," Glover agreed. "But you yourself were the one who showed me that I couldn't trust certain men who worked for me. I'm curious, Mr. Heyes, what was your purpose in all of this? You needn't have come if you weren't interested in the job."

"I told you that first day, captain, that the Kid and I don't steal anymore. The governor has promised us amnesty if we stay out of trouble. In most people's minds I am still the leader of the Devil's Hole gang, along with Kid Curry, and a robbery of a safe that only I have ever opened will solidify that idea in their minds, even if someone else managed to do it, and put a blotch on our record with the governor. We came to prevent the robbery to save our amnesty and to prevent our friends from being hunted with a vengeance by the US Army; they wouldn't have lasted long."

"Very noble, Mr. Heyes, but your plan has failed."

"So it seems."

"Well, here we are, Mr. Curry is inside."

Heyes stared at the small shed where he had found his Bryant pump and remembered the dark, dirty, cramped space inside and shivered at the thought of being locked inside, injured and alone. He resisted the urge to tear the door open with his bare hands, waiting instead for Glover to open first the padlock and then the door.

The light flooded in and illuminated the body of Kid Curry lying sprawled face down on the dirt floor, unmoving. For a heartbeat Heyes stood transfixed in horror at the sight of his friend's back lacerated and black with dried blood, the visible eye swollen and tinged black and purple. "Oh, God, Kid!" he gasped and dropped to his knees alongside the injured man. There was no visible sign of life. "Kid?" He gently stroked the tousled curls and received no response. Hardly daring to touch him for fear of hurting him more still he knew he had to and so with great care he turned Kid onto his side; there was still no response, no movement or moan of pain. Heyes put his hat on the floor and leaned his head down until he could place his ear against the other's chest and there, very faint, was the beat of his heart. Giddy with relief, Heyes took the time to look beyond the ruined back, to the massive bruises that spread across his ribs, belly, and chest and the swollen abrasions on his face from the pummeling he'd been given when first captured. "Hold on, Kid, I'm gonna get you out of here!" he whispered into his friend's ear. Then with an inarticulate cry, he spun around and up, reaching out as if to rend Glover limb from limb with his bare hands, only to come face to face with the muzzle of a pistol held in Grimes' hand.

"Don't be rash, Mr. Heyes!" Glover warned.

"Go ahead, shoot me, and know your money is going up in smoke!" Heyes taunted, his fury knowing no bounds.

"This is useless. You've seen your friend, seen that he's alive, now the sooner we get the exchange over with the sooner you can see to his care."

"Right, let's get this over with!" Heyes snarled and snatched his hat up from the floor. Hating to leave the Kid lying there unprotected, but knowing he had no choice at the moment, he stepped out into the sunshine.

"How do you signal Kyle?"

"Like this," Heyes replied removing his hat and waving it over his head. Then all hell broke loose.

There were two simultaneous explosions that sent dirt and rock into the air, startling the two men with Heyes and even surprising him as he'd only expected one at a time. With a slight grin he realized Kyle must've convinced Lom to join in his fun. But the surprise didn't last long and, having been military men, there was no panic.

"I knew you couldn't be trusted!" Grimes growled, swinging the rifle to take aim at Heyes, but having suspected something of the sort to happen he was ready and knocked the barrel up so the bullet flew harmlessly into the air. A solid blow to the gut doubled the grizzled soldier at the waist, his breath temporarily lost, and Heyes took advantage to grab the rifle only to be felled by a pistol butt in the temple wielded by Glover to whom he'd turned his back. Consciousness was fading quickly, but he heard Grimes snarl, "I'll be back to take care of you later!" A vicious boot in the belly kicked the former outlaw into the darkness.

Inside the bunkhouse the Devil's Hole gang perked up at the sound of the explosions. Wheat stood and hitched up his trousers saying, "Well, boys, sounds like Heyes and Kyle have come to bust us out! How 'bout we lend 'em a hand?"

"How?" Hank asked.

"Bust down the door!" the other exclaimed.

The tables the outlaws used to eat and play poker on were nothing to look at but they were built of solid oak and had withstood plenty of rough handling over the years. Wheat took hold of one leg, Hank took another, while a third member of the gang grabbed the third and together they used the table as a battering ram. It took only four blows to prove that the table had weathered the years better than the door as it gave way in splinters.

Their guard, thinking they were secure, had gone to get new orders from his captain when the explosions had begun. Now free, the gang faced the problem of being unarmed.

"Howdy, boys!"

Startled they turned to see Lom Trevors rounding the side of the bunkhouse.

"What're _you_ doin' here?" Wheat demanded.

"Helpin' out. Would you like some guns?" The sheriff laid the bundle he carried on the ground and pulled the burlap away from a pile of miscellaneous firearms.

"All right! We're in business now, boys!"

The outlaws converged on the weapons, grabbing one and a box of ammunition, loading them with the ease of long familiarity. "Time for a little payback, I reckon!" Wheat cradled a double-barreled shotgun in his arms, a look of determination on his face. "They know they're outnumbered so they'll be desperate, boys. Stay undercover as much as possible; I don't want no more graves joinin' Lobo's. Got it?"

"You got it, Wheat!" the others chorused and spread out taking advantage of whatever cover they could find as they moved towards the leader's cabin from three sides. Kyle's less frequent sticks of dynamite covered any noise their movements might have made, and kept the ex-soldier's attention focused away not knowing from which direction the attack was coming as the explosions seemed to be everywhere.

Lom watched them creep away and then he turned, put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly.

"Right behind ya, Lom!"

The sheriff jumped and spun around to look into Kyle's manically grinning face. "How'd you do that?" he exclaimed.

"Just naturally sneaky, I guess! I'm outta dynamite." The look of sorrow on the outlaw's face would have made Lom laugh if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Well, never mind, it was enough," he assured him. "Come on, let's help take these fellas down!"

Together the sheriff and the outlaw moved stealthily towards the back of the cabin, hoping to get the drop on one of the ex-soldiers. Lom stopped suddenly when he spotted a familiar figure sprawled on the ground. "Heyes!" he exclaimed and ran to the prone man, Kyle right behind him. "Heyes?" He gently rolled his friend over, wincing at the blood streaming from the gash in Heyes' head, but sighed in relief when brown eyes blinked open. "You okay?" he asked anxiously.

"Except for a vicious headache, yeah," Heyes groaned. He put a hand to his head and grimaced as it came away bloody. "How's the plan workin'?"

"Smooth, Heyes, real smooth!" Kyle enthused. "The boys got 'em boxed in."

"Three of 'em are undercover out front of the cabin; Glover and one other are inside," Lom elaborated on Kyle's comment.

"Good, they're right where we want 'em. Let's finish this!" Heyes struggled to his feet, Lom and Kyle steadying him on either side.

"What've you got in mind?"

"We'll go in the back way."

"What back way, Heyes?" Kyle wanted to know. "There ain't but one way inta th'cabin!"

"That's what everybody's _supposed_ to think!" Heyes agreed. "Every varmint puts a back door in its burrow; why should an outlaw be any different?"

As Kyle screwed up his face trying to figure out if his former leader had called the gang varmints, Heyes grinned and led the way to the back wall of the cabin. "This is the wall to my old room," he explained. Then with nimble and knowledgeable fingers found the hidden latch that caused part of the wall to pop open a crack. Pulling carefully in case a squeak had developed over the years, Heyes revealed a door that opened onto the small bedroom. Fortunately the door from the bedroom into the cabin's main room was closed and they crept undetected into the cabin, closing the door behind them.

Kyle's mouth had dropped open and not closed at this amazing revelation. With a broad grin, Heyes put his gloved hand under the scruffy outlaw's chin and closed it. Finger to his lips he gestured that they should stay put while he eased open the other door to see the lay of the land, then closed it again.

"Okay, they're both at the window, backs to us. I'm gonna throw open the door and we'll all three run into the room an' get the drop on 'em. We should have surprise on our side!"

He reached into his boot and pulled out the little derringer.

"That all you got, Heyes?"

"It'll do just fine, Kyle, don't worry."

"Worry's what keeps me alive, Heyes!"

"Okay, let's go!"

The bang of a door hitting a wall behind them, startled Glover and Grimes into turning just in time to see Hannibal Heyes burst into the room, followed by Kyle and a third strange man.

"Don't move!" Heyes shouted. "Drop your guns!"

"Like hell I will!" Grimes snarled and raised his rifle only to drop to the floor with a howl as Heyes emptied both barrels of the derringer into his leg.

Captain Glover's pistol hit the floor and he raised his hands in surrender.

"All right, captain, tell your men outside to drop their weapons!" the former outlaw leader ordered.

There were sporadic gunshots being exchanged outside and in one lull, Glover shouted out the door after he'd been given an encouraging nudge from the rifle Lom held in his back, "Drop your guns, men! Come out with your hands up!"

As soldiers they were trained to follow orders and this was no different, although they were confused. Gleefully, the Devil's Hole gang converged on their former cohorts and herded them all together.

"What you want we should do with 'em, Heyes?" Wheat called.

"Tie 'em up in the bunkhouse for now, Wheat, and keep a guard on 'em!"

"You got it!"

Heyes turned his attention back to his two captives, one of which clutched his bleeding leg while moaning in pain. "Lom, can you an Kyle handle these two for a while? I've gotta take care of Kid."

"Go ahead, Heyes, we've got it under control," the lawman assured him.

Heyes' heart leaped for joy to see the Kid moving feebly. "Kid!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees once again at his friend's side.

Bright blue eyes blinked open, one only halfway, but several seconds passed before they could focus on the face leaning over them. "Heyes?" he rasped hoarsely. "What happened to your head?"

Rolling his eyes, Heyes replied, "Just got careless an' ran into a pistol butt. Let's get you over to the cabin. D'you think you can walk with my help?"

Kid rolled his head slightly side to side in a negative. "Don't think so, Heyes, I'm feelin' pretty weak. Ain't eaten anything 'cept a piece of jerky since the train robbery!"

"I guess you're gonna be okay, Kid, if all you can think about is your stomach!"

"'Course I'm gonna be okay; _you're_ here, ain't ya?" Curry said, rending Heyes' heart with his childlike trust.

"S'okay, I can carry you. It's gonna hurt, though," he said worriedly.

"You worry too much, Heyes, just do it!"

Steeling his nerve, Heyes very gently worked one arm under Kid's knees, the other under his shoulders, and staggered to his feet. A moan of pain worked its way out from deep inside the Kid and his head lolled against his rescuer's shoulder as consciousness left him.

As quickly as he could, Heyes made his way back to the cabin, kicking the door open with a foot. Looking neither right nor left, he carried his burden to what used to be his room and laid him gently face down on the bed.

"I'm gonna need some hot water, Lom," he said to the white faced lawman who stood speechlessly staring at the ruin of Curry's back.

"Got the stove goin' and a pot on already, Heyes; it'll be ready soon. I'll see what I can find for bandages."

"Thanks, Lom."

Leaving his unconscious friend for a moment, Heyes leaned on the door frame, his arms crossed, to check on the status of the prisoners. He found Captain Glover tied to a chair and Sergeant Grimes, his wounded leg roughly bandaged, also bound hand and foot in a corner. His eyes burned with hatred for these two who had caused so much pain. Now he had a dilemma-what was he to do with them? They owed retribution and he was going to collect, but how? He shrugged it aside-there would be time for that later after the Kid had been cared for.

"Kyle, do you think there's something around to make broth out of? Kid's hungry."

"Sure, Heyes, I'll get some goin' fer ya," Kyle replied eager to help.

"Thanks, Kyle."

With a basin of the now warm water and some torn sheets, Heyes carefully bathed the lacerations of the dried blood, having to change the water twice as it turned red. At last the wounds were clean and now it could be seen that they weren't as deep as they had appeared, but Heyes knew from experience that the scars would be with him forever. He smeared them with an herbal ointment he had purchased in Porterville.

Unnoticed by Heyes, the Kid's eyes had reopened during his treatment and had caught glimpses of the sadness on his partner's face. "Guess I know somethin' of what you felt at the home with all the beatin's you took for me," he said.

His friend smiled wanly, "I'd guess you do and more, Kid."

"But you were little. I always admired how strong you were to take 'em an' y'mostly never even cried!"

"Only did what I had to do, Kid, what I promised I would do. I failed to keep that promise this time."

"If you don't quit takin' the blame for what ain't your responsibility, I'm gonna get up right now an' flatten you!"

The ridiculousness of that threat made Heyes laugh out loud.

Curry smiled along with him and then sobered. "Heyes, I can't feel my hands too good. Why?"

Compressing his lips, Heyes picked up the Kid's left hand for the other to see. "They got pretty torn up by the ropes. I had to take care of your back first, now I'll doctor your wrists."

"But, Heyes, I can't _feel_ my hand too good! How'm I gonna draw if I can't feel my hand?" A note of panic was entering the Kid's voice.

"They'll be _fine_, Kid, they just gotta heal!" Heyes soothed his partner and began to bathe the torn wrists.

"You sure?"

"'Course I'm sure! When have I ever lied to you?"

"Never, I guess."

"Never is right! Now you got no business worryin', that's _my_ job. Your job is to get well, okay?"

"You're the boss, Heyes." Curry sighed and fell silent. Heyes finished washing the wounded wrists then smeared them with the ointment and wrapped them loosely in bandages.

"Kyle's made some broth. Do you think you can sit up and drink some?"

"I'll try."

"Kyle! Bring a cup of that broth, please!" Heyes called while easing Curry into a sitting position.

Kyle hurried in with the steaming cup, his face wreathed in a smile of pleasure. "Good t'see ya alive an' kickin', Kid!" he said.

"Well, I'm alive, Kyle, but I ain't doin' much kickin'!" Curry replied wryly.

"You'll be right as rain real soon!"

"'Preciate the confidence, Kyle."

His hands being numb, Curry couldn't hold the cup steadily so Heyes helped him until the cup was completely drained. His hunger temporarily sated, his eyes began to droop and he said, "I think I'll sleep now."

Heyes eased him back to lie on his stomach and within moments the soft, even sounds of natural sleep reached his ears. Pulling a chair close to the bed Heyes settled in to keep watch.

Lom looked in a few moments later and found the two partners both asleep; Heyes with his head resting on the back of his chair. The lawman figured Heyes would have an aching neck in the morning, but didn't want to wake him now that sleep had finally found him. He tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

As Lom had guessed, Heyes woke with a terrible crick in his neck, but nevertheless more rested than he had been recently. He immediately checked the Kid and found him still sleeping peacefully so he left the room in search of coffee.

A pot of freshly made coffee was on the stove thanks to the lawman, who sat at his ease sipping a cup himself. "You're up mighty early, Lom," Heyes commented as he poured himself a cup.

"Heard too many bad things about your coffee, Heyes, so I figured I'd better be the first one up!" Lom replied poker faced.

Heyes only snorted in reply. He looked at the two prisoners and noted that they had been gagged. "What's with the gags?"

"They were gettin' a little mouthy last night, particularly that Sergeant Grimes. There were words comin' outta his mouth that'd embarrass a sailor! What's the plan for all these fellas?"

"Well, I put a lot of thought into that last night," Heyes began.

"Really? I was sure you were sleepin'," Lom quirked an eyebrow.

"I do some of my best thinkin' when I'm asleep! Now quit interruptin'. As I was sayin'. We've done part of what needed doin' - we saved the money and got it to its rightful owners, but that may not satisfy the Army completely. They still believe the Devil's Hole gang held up the train and they may take it upon themselves to do something about it; now I can't have that. Plus, these two owe blood! Captain Glover shot Lobo in the back just cuz he didn't want to be involved and he shot a boy soldier who was guarding the payroll cuz he knew Glover and Glover couldn't leave any witnesses alive who knew him. Then there's what they did to the Kid, an' _that_ I simply can't forgive, or forget! I'm gonna let you take the others down to be tried an' most likely hanged, but you're gonna have to leave these two here for me to deal justice to!"

"I can't just leave them here for you to kill, Heyes!" Lom exclaimed.

Heyes' eyes hardened. "I ain't givin' you a choice, Lom, but first I'm gonna do somethin' about clearin' the Devil's Hole gang." He walked over to a small desk and found a pencil and a piece of paper, which he set down in front of Captain Glover. Then he removed the gag. "Captain Glover, I'm gonna give you a chance to make right everything you've done and I suggest you seriously consider it, because I guarantee you won't like the alternative! All you have to do is write a full confession on this piece of paper being sure to absolve the Devil's Hole gang of any guilt in both the robbery and the death of that young soldier."

"I'll do no such thing!" spat the ex-Army officer.

"Very well, we'll do this the hard way," Heyes sighed. "Lom, I'll thank you to stay out of this."

"I don't even know what you're plannin' to do!" the lawman protested.

"Just don't get in my way, Lom," the ex-outlaw warned. "In fact, maybe you oughta step out so's your lawman sensibilities don't get offended."

"I'm stayin'."

"Have it your way, but you've been warned." Putting Lom completely out of his mind, Heyes drew his pistol, which Kyle had so thoughtfully returned to him. "You know how many bullets this holds, don't you, Captain Glover?"

"Of course I do!" snorted the military man.

"How many? Humor me, please."

"Six."

"Very good. Now I'm gonna open the cylinder and I want you to count the bullets, make sure there's six." Holding the six-gun close, Heyes rotated the cylinder so Glover could count the bullets. "How many are in this gun, captain?"

"Six."

"Excellent! Now, here's a little game we're gonna play. First I remove five bullets from the gun," Heyes tilted the gun, rotating the cylinder as each bullet fell out. He put the bullets on the table in front of the captain. "How many bullets do you see there?"

"Five."

"Which leaves one left in the cylinder, correct?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Now here's how the game is played. I spin the cylinder containing one bullet, then I point the gun to your head and ask you very nicely to write out that confession. If you say no I pull the trigger. If you're in luck, the hammer will fall on an empty chamber and you'll get another turn. I spin the cylinder again and we repeat the whole thing until you agree to write the confession, or your brains get blown out! Ready?"

"You aren't serious!" Captain Glover exclaimed.

"Oh, but I am - - deadly serious," Heyes replied calmly.

"Heyes …" Lom began, half-rising from his chair.

"Lom, I told you to stay out of this and I mean it! We're friends and I'd like us to stay that way." After Lom had sunk back onto his chair, Heyes spun the cylinder, cocked the pistol, and placed the muzzle against Glover's head. "Are you going to write the confession absolving the Devil's Hole gang, Hannibal Heyes, and Kid Curry of any involvement in the train robbery and murder of the guard?"

"No," Glover replied adamantly.

All the inhabitants of the room held their breaths until the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber.

"Lucky! This game may go on for quite some time!" Heyes spun the cylinder again, cocked the gun, and placed it against Glover's head again. He repeated the question and at the repeated 'no' pulled the trigger again. Again the hammer hit an empty chamber. "I wonder how long your luck can hold? You're already sweating, I see." Four more times this was repeated, each time Glover perspired more and by the last time he was cowering as best he could tied as he was. "Well, well, I simply can't believe your luck, captain! I'm going to bet you've now run out! Do you want to take that bet?" He spun the cylinder, cocked the pistol, and placed the muzzle against the frightened man's head. "Are you going to write the confession absolving the Devil's Hole gang, Hannibal Heyes, and Kid Curry of any involvement in the train robbery and the murder of the guard?"

"All right, all right! I'll write it!" he nearly screamed.

"Good choice." Heyes untied the ropes that bound Glover's hands and keeping the gun to his head said, "Write."

Captain Glover wrote furiously for ten minutes, signing the document at the end. "There, there's your confession! Satisfied?"

"Not by a long shot, captain. You owe me big time for what you did to Lobo and the Kid! I promised myself you'd pay for those offenses with your blood!" He lifted the pistol for the last time, cocked it very deliberately, and put the muzzle right up against the visibly trembling man's temple. "This is your justice, captain."

"Heyes, no!" Curry shouted from the bedroom doorway, which he clung to weakly, at the same time Heyes pulled the trigger for the last time; for the last time the hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

Captain Glover fell forward onto the table, sobbing in mixed fear and relief, and Heyes dropped his arm, reholstering his gun, and gazed in disgust at the broken man. "Take them with you, Lom; take them all and turn them over to the Army! They're sure to be hung for murder, or maybe, if they're lucky, a firing squad!"

Wrung out, Heyes turned from the table and with drooping shoulders went to Curry, helping him back to bed and shutting the door behind them.

Two hours later, Lom knocked on the door, "We're leaving, Heyes, Kid."

Heyes opened the door, shocking the sheriff with the dark circles under his eyes and his haggard face. "Kid's asleep again. Let me walk you to the door."

The two men stepped out into the sunshine and Heyes was mildly surprised to see the cheerful daylight. Gathered in front of the door were the prisoners, mounted on their own horses, surrounded by the Devil's Hole gang. "What're you boys doin'?"

"We're goin' t'escort Lom and these fellas to Porterville, make sure there's no funny business along the way!" Wheat announced.

"That's good planning, Wheat!" his ex-leader said in surprise.

"Well, I may not be a genius, Heyes, but I ain't stupid neither! We won't go all the way in just in case Lom's deputy has grand ideas. We oughta be back in two or three days."

"See you then, Wheat. Me an' the Kid're gonna stay here and heal up for a bit, if that's all right with you."

"'Course, Heyes! This is always your home, if you need it!"

Before Heyes could think of anything to say to that, Lom had mounted his horse. "Stop by when you're on your way elsewhere, okay, Heyes?"

"Sure thing, Lom, and thanks."

The group turned and galloped in a cloud of dust out of Devil's Hole. Heyes watched them go with a lighter heart then turned and went back inside where the Kid waited, who, having wakened to find his partner gone, had been unable to stay in bed.

"I just got one question, Heyes," Kid said as he set a cup of coffee on the table for his partner.

"What's that, Kid?"

"Didn't you think you were takin' a big chance on that gun actually goin' off?"

"No chance at all, Kid," Heyes replied.

"How's that?"

"It wasn't loaded." From his pocket, Heyes pulled out a bullet and set it on the table with the other five. He grinned mischievously. Curry stared at the six bullets for a moment then threw back his head and laughed with sheer joy.

The End


End file.
